Got any tips?

At the end of our day in Paris, Hide and I needed dinner prior to boarding the Eurostar for the trip back to London.

We crossed the road from the terminal and were roped into eating at a café right across the street. A swarthy European man with shoulder length hair pressed us first in French and then in English.

“I have English menu. It’s good, you’ll like it.”

Normally I’d need something more than this simple sell to get me into an eating establishment. Well, something more than that, or exceptionally cute wait staff – but I was tired, I’d been up since 4am in the morning, had been walking across Paris all day and just wanted to sit and something to eat.

So, his “hard sell” worked.

The wrangler passed us off to a server, who was an older French gentleman with white hair and a disturbingly waxed mustache. I say disturbingly as I haven’t seen a waxed mustache in person other than on film, and in historic photographs.

The place was reasonably busy, but not overwhelmingly so. The server took his time serving us, and he neglected to mention that the ice tea Hide ordered – not on the menu – would cost as much as the Kir Royale that I ordered.

I wouldn’t have been that annoyed, but, after making the international subtle gesture that we were ready for the bill, he sat and watched some television, talked with other wait staff and began waiting on other tables with people who’d just arrived.

The bill finally arrived, and I asked for change. To which he gruffly replied “Tip is not included you know.” To which I believe I replied “good”.

Living in America, I’m now ingrained in the tipping mode. If someone tells you the time nicely, I'll probably tip. In New Zealand last year I was tipping bartenders who thought I’d forgotten my change – the other meals I’d eaten in France didn’t have the servers asking for a tip. I believe it my obvious foreignness that had him thinking he was entitled to a tip. I just don’t believe in tipping for poor service, no matter the country.